


Royai Week 2020 - Prompt One: Letter

by royza_hawkstang



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, royaiweek20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24612745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royza_hawkstang/pseuds/royza_hawkstang
Relationships: RoyAi
Kudos: 14





	Royai Week 2020 - Prompt One: Letter

##  **Every Five Words**

For a moment, the sight of the innocuous white envelope caused her breath to freeze in her lungs. There was no postmark, meaning it had been hand-delivered to her mailbox, and in this time of Pride and Bradley practically breathing down her neck… a hand delivery became suspicious.

When she saw the name on the return address, however, her lungs thawed and air returned. Smiling to herself, she tucked the envelope from “Berthold Mangrum” inside her folded copy of the Central Times, closed the mailbox, and headed for the stairs, a scene from the not-too-distant past playing in her memory.

_“Moving to Central could be the more dangerous thing we’ve ever done,” he said solemnly, the gravity of the words dampened somewhat by the fact that he was beginning to slur his words, and that they were seated on the floor of her new apartment, surrounded by boxes. “I’m not liked here, Grumman’s not liked here... I don’t think even Hughes was particularly liked.” He shook his head. “We’re going to have to be extra careful in working to get to the top. Compartmentalize information, redact files, verbal check-and-response when we talk over serious stuff... maybe codenames.”_

_Reaching out, Riza caught his hand and removed the wine glass from it before his gesturing as he spoke ended up with spilled alcohol or broken glass. “We already have codenames,” she reminded him, taking a sip from her own glass. She was not so far gone as he was, mostly due to the fact that she she was pacing herself to avoid that situation, but she could feel the light buzzing in her mind beginning to get stronger. “‘Elizabeth,’ ‘Jacqueline,’ ‘Kate....’”_

_“_ You _have a codename,” he countered. “But I don’t. ‘The Flame Alchemist’ does not count,” he said, cutting her off with a levelled finger as she opened her mouth to say exactly that. “I need one for things that maybe the higher-ups don’t need to know about.”_

_“And so which one of your sisters will you be co-opting this new name from?” she countered, leaning back against a box. From the way it clinked, she suspected it contained the flatware they hadn’t been able to find at dinner time. “Madeline? Vanessa? Or maybe... as the leader, you become the leader.” She smiled with no small amount of wickedness as his eyes darted toward her. “I think you would make a very good Chris.”_

_“Careful. If you say that too loud, it summons her.” Apparently done his gesticulating, he retrieved his own wine glass, taking a thoughtful sip. “What if... I took the name from another part of our lives? Still one that isn’t likely to be recognized as being connected with me, but with enough significance to us to make it obvious?”_

When she was safe behind her apartment door, with Hayate prancing excitedly around her feet, Riza took the envelope from its hiding place, and glanced at the name again. Her father’s name, little-known even in its connection to her, the same for ‘Mangrum;’ a simple anagram of her grandfather’s name, the two references combined together in a way that could only be Roy.

Tearing the envelope open, she left it on the counter, moving to sit on the floor with her dog, who immediately climbed into her lap to shower her face in welcome-home licks. Craning her neck to see past his ears, she caught the first few words, enough to recognize the clue that the paragraphs held a message within a message.

“Hayate.” She used the special voice; the command voice, and he instantly froze, watching her intently. “Guard.”

The little Shiba gave a sharp yap, nearly deafening her with its closeness before scrambling off her lap and beginning at slow patrol of the apartment. Riza still wasn’t sure how well a dog’s sense for the supernatural did at detecting nosy Homonculi, but she was willing to bet that if Pride came sniffing around, Hayate would sense him coming.

Getting up, she retrieved a pen from beside the telephone, and settled at the kitchen table, spreading the letter in front of her. _‘Dear Riza,’_ it started, innocently enough. _‘Five weeks since we last spoke.’_ Pen at the ready and dog on alert, she skimmed the letter quickly.

_Dear Riza:_

_Five weeks since we last spoke. I thought I would miss drinking, but, I tell you, turns out its not so bad; it’s just very much a battle royale of will. I’ll probably have to call ‘uncle’ and give in soon, the question is just how soon. I probably shouldn’t do, but I promise that I’m okay. The new job’s fine; I’m trying out some new ideas, some methods, some plans. It’s all starting to form up._

_Ironworkers union might strike soon. “We’re all a team!” they say. It’s getting old. They’re no team, just friends getting the short stick from management. There’s a wage war, basically. I think a bartender earns more. Nobody will pass the picket line, so you know they’ll win soon._

_Information kiosk being built downtown. Men started construction, getting it all set up. It’s a fine idea; good for tourists, kids getting lost, old people too._

_I remember that you love Xingese food. I told you about the new noodle take out place, right? They care a lot about customers._

_Whoops, five minute break is over; better get back to work. Have a good one._

_Sincerely,  
Berthold Mangrum_

She double-checked the letter and her interpretation of the code, writing each word as she found it in the margins of the paper. Hayate still prowled about, his claws clicking lightly on the wooden floor, occasionally stopping to sniff some innocuous item or other. By the time she finished, Roy’s message was loud and clear.

_Five weeks since we last spoke._ That was the code clue. A number in the first sentence to give her the basis for deciphering whatever he’d hidden in more innocuous sentences.

_I thought I would **miss** drinking, but, I tell **you** , turns out its not **so** bad; it’s just very **much** a battle royale of **will**. I’ll probably have to **call** ‘uncle’ and give in **soon** , the question is just **how** soon. I probably shouldn’t **do** , but I promise that **I’m** okay. The new job’s **fine** ; I’m trying out some **new** ideas, some methods, some **plans**. It’s all starting to **form** up._

She wrote quickly. **miss you so much/will call soon/how do/ I’m fine/new plans form-** She frowned, the sentence not making sense until she checked the next paragraph.

_Ironworkers union might **strike** soon. “We’re all a **team**!” they say. It’s getting **old**. They’re no team, just **friends** getting the short stick **from** management. There’s a wage **war** , basically._

**new plans/form strike team/old friends from war**

Now that made sense. He had made mention once of how his squad had shown a little appreciation when the fighting was over, how they liked his command style, and especially that he worked to keep them safe in a battle, instead of sending them headlong into danger. She paused, trying to remember all the names he had told her, but knew she fell short. She could recall Damiano, Charlie… Dino was a possibility, though she wasn’t sure.

_I think a **bartender** earns more. Nobody will **pass** the picket line, so **you** know they’ll win soon. _

_**Information** kiosk being built downtown. **Men** started construction, getting it **all** set up. It’s a **fine** idea; good for tourists, **kids** getting lost, old people **too**._

The part of her mind that wasn’t concentrating on deciphering his code was left free to observe that, to anyone else reading this letter, it would sound scattered, distracted, rambling…. Probably exactly how Bradley and the Homonculi thought he would be after being stripped of his most essential staff and being placed under careful surveillance.

**bartender pass you Information/men all fine/ - good, that was a load off of her mind – kids too**

So it was his intention to pass her information through his mother; probably the safest best. Chris knew how to keep her mouth shut and keep from being noticed. But the next part…. Riza frowned again. Kids? Did he maybe mean Elicia and hadn’t found a way to use the singular form — oh. Her shoulders relaxed in relief she didn’t know she had been hoping for; the Elrics were all right. Spirits rising, she turned her attention to the last couple of lines… and felt them take off as though rocket-propelled.

_I remember that you **love** Xingese food. I told **you** about the new noodle **take** out place, right? They **care** a lot about customers._

Four simple words that somehow felt like a steadying hand on her shoulder, or a soft, soothing kiss to her forehead. **love you/take care**

The last line, _‘Whoops, five minute break is over; better get back to work. Have a good one.’_ was the indicator that the code was finished, with no more to follow until the next letter. Riza kept her eyes on those last four decoded words as she stood, moving toward the kitchen sink. Reaching into a drawer beside it, she withdrew a small card box, and regretfully set the letter into the metal basin.

She struck the match and let it fall, consuming the evidence… and letting the flames burn the words into her memory.


End file.
